


Unchanging

by This_is_your_Heichou_speaking



Series: Cross My Heart [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Basically just Snape and his angsty monologuing tho, But with a surprisingly hopeful ending?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 11:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10385553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking
Summary: Betaed by the wonderful Rei.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the wonderful Rei.

They fought constantly. It made sense, after all they were completely incompatible - in personality, age, looks and Merlin knew what else. It was only logical, then, that they argued over absolutely everything, and that they were so different in the ways they expressed that anger.

When Harry lost his temper, he would explode and direct his emotions outwards, loud voice and violent gestures asking for Severus to just _understand_ , to give him a chance, and when Severus couldn't, he'd break down. Harry wore his heart on his sleeve, and that, more than anything, made it so much easier for Severus to hurt him. And he did, again and again, every time wondering why he did.

Severus was the complete opposite. He was older, wearier, and he became quieter in his rage. Colder. He spoke in low, threatening tones and said as many things as he could to just cut and humiliate and _hurt_ , so Harry couldn't see how much _he_  hurt, and how weak he'd really become. He was used to this, masking his feelings and thoughts under a blasé countenance and mocking sneer.

He would stand in the shadows that the corners of the room cast, hearing without listening as Harry shouted words of pain and anger, and he remained there, completely still even as Harry started crying, even as the urge to hold his lover became almost unbearable in its intensity. Because Severus was nothing like Harry, who was bold and loud and bright, and Harry wasn't white, just like he wasn't black. No, Harry was colour and life and a cool breeze on a hot day and Severus was grey, dull evenings, and who in their right minds would put them together?

He had always prided himself on his control and his ability to mask his worthless emotions in front of his worthless drunk of a father and the Dark Lord alike. Harry wasn't any different, he told himself. He wouldn't let his judgment be impeded, he promised himself. Every time, he'd pretend not to care, but who was he fooling?

And Severus could hold a grudge like no one else. Harry would come running back within a few hours, desperately trying to fix what he hadn't even broken so they could attempt, or pretend, to be happy again, but Severus wasn't that kind. He would remain angry for days, or - a handful of times - even weeks. He'd refuse to speak to Harry, not that Harry remained for long. No, Harry was a creature of freedom - he enjoyed his space, his ignorance, and he would run soon after the tears became unstoppable, and his voice refused to come out without hiccups.

It was then, in the fading light of the evening, that he would stand and wonder what it was that he was doing. Why, he wondered, did Harry always come back? Severus was bitter, old, and unkind. He held no romantic fantasies about how, perhaps, there was good inside him, or how he was a victim just like everyone else, misunderstood but innocent in the grand scheme of things. No, Severus knew that everything he'd done had been repaid in kind. An eye for an eye, a life for a life, and Severus had always been a purely selfish creature. He'd joined the Death Eaters for his own gain, and betrayed them for the same reasons. If anything, Harry was much more than he deserved, and yet he treated the boy so ungratefully. It was no wonder he was meant to suffer, but he hurt at the idea of Harry, who'd already gone through so much, being in anymore pain. And yet, here they were again, with him in a corner and Harry running down dark and empty streets in tears.

Often, he imagined himself leaving his lover, finding a silent house in the middle of nowhere, nothing but skies and quietly bubbling cauldrons but, once again, Severus was far too selfish.

He wanted Harry, wanted him in spite of his laughter and passion - or perhaps, he admitted, because of it. He would not leave Harry. No, Harry would leave him. Not today and not tomorrow, but one day, Harry would tire of him and walk out. Because Severus would never change.

He didn't know how.

He closed his eyes now, leaning his head back until it hit the wall behind him, and exhaled long and hard. He wanted to do more, wanted to scream and maybe break something, but this was all he'd allow himself. It was not his place, his luxury, to express the turmoil that reigned so freely in his chest. Of course, Harry had told him he was being ridiculous - he did that quite a bit - and asked him to be more open. Harry asked a lot of him, always with wide hopeful eyes and a tentative smile - asked for things like talking more and being truthful about his feelings, like they were easy, simple things. Like they weren't the most difficult things he could possibly ask of Severus.

But that was unfair too, Severus knew. It wasn't easy for Harry either, never had been, but Harry still did it. For _him_.

He couldn't remember what they'd been fighting about anymore. It was something small, he remembered thinking it completely insignificant, and he remembered telling Harry that, who had clearly not taken it well. The worst thing was that this time, Harry had threatened to leave him, to walk out of the door and never look back. He'd never done that before. He wouldn't actually leave, Severus knew, or at least not _this_  time. But it was coming now, he could feel it nearing. The day Harry snapped. The day it all became too much for him to cope with.

He had imagined it'd hurt, of course. He wasn't a doll or rock, and he could admit (at least to himself) when something would cause him pain. But it hurt a lot more than he'd anticipated, just this increased chance of Harry leaving him. What would happen, when his lover finally did? How would he cope, _survive_ , when it hurt so much already that his hands trembled with the force of it?

He wondered if this was even the right choice. That Granger girl, a while back now, had said something along those lines to him. ' _It's not your choice to make_ ', she'd muttered, lips pursed tightly in displeasure, ' _stop trying to force him_ '. They didn't talk much now, of course. Harry and his friends, that was. That was Severus' fault too. He'd driven them away. They'd made him choose and Harry had chosen him.

Suddenly he felt incredibly ashamed. What was he doing, wallowing in self pity and whining, and about what? The most amazing man in the world _loving_  him? Being _devoted_  to him? What kind of despicable human was he, that he drove his young lover out of the house with scarcely a shirt on his back, in bloody _tears_? And in _this_  deplorable weather, no less. He may deserve the worst, but Harry certainly didn't. Was his self loathing so much more important than his love?

He didn't like to think so, and yet, thinking about it, there seemed no other conclusion. He walked slowly to the couch in the centre of the room and collapsed on it, staring despondently into the faint reflection in the glass of the coffee table. The sky grew ever dark, and as the rain grew heavier, Severus' worry grew with it.

He became antsy, as if suddenly realising that anything could have happened to his lover, and suddenly his mind began conjuring the worst images, visions of Harry unconscious in a ditch, of Harry lying bloody on a road or trapped in a corner by big, burly men, and he stood suddenly, cursing to himself as he rushed out of the door with nothing but his wand and the clothes on his back to shield against the elements.

He began to pace up and down the road, half walking, half jogging. He was just trying to decide which way to go when he saw a dark, solitary figure make its way down the street in his direction. It stopped suddenly, scarcely five feet away, and Severus realised who it was.

"Harry," he whispered. The man looked tiny, his shirt soaked and clinging to his skin, and Severus was struck with the sudden thought that Harry was _thin_. He stared into surprised green eyes, and said the only thing to come to mind.

"You've lost weight."

Harry didn't say anything for a long while, staring at him as if he'd spoken in gobbledygook or some other such language, then laughed unpleasantly. Severus winced at the sound - he had never wanted to hear that kind of pain in Harry's voice, not again.

"I suppose I have," he replied softly. There was another pause, then Harry pulled his shoulders up. "What are you doing out here?"

The rain was loud in his ears, and yet he could still hear Harry clear as day. He reached out and took a hold of the delicate wrist. When there was no protest, he pulled his lover closer until there was barely a hair's breath of space between their chests. He could feel Harry's warmth, could feel his chest touch Severus' own every time he breathed in and the hot air of Harry's exhale on his collarbone.

He leaned down slightly, so their lips nearly touched. "I came looking for you."

Harry's eyes were wide and vulnerable. He didn't move away, but neither did he move closer. "Why?" he asked, and there were so many questions in that one word. Why hurt me? Why fight me? Why now? Did I do something wrong?

Severus closed his eyes for a second, trying to regain his composure. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and put everything he had into those two words, staring silently into green eyes in a desperate plea for forgiveness.

Harry looked away, tensing as if to decide whether or not to move away, but he remained frozen, and merely stood there, unsure, until Severus raised his hand and cupped his cheek.

"It's cold out," he said. "We should get inside." He said nothing else, nor did he kiss Harry or touch him elsewhere. It would not be welcome right now. He merely pulled him back into the shelter of their home, and closed the door behind him.

They would take time to work this out. Severus had been more than unkind, he'd been _cruel_ , and Harry had broken down so often he wondered if there were even any happy memory of this relationship left unscathed by all the negative emotions. But Severus was determined now, that they would work. He may be unworthy, but he would stay here, by Harry's side, for as long as the young man wanted him. Whether that was just for today, or an eternity.

' _I owe him that,_ ' he thought. ' _At the very least, that._ '


End file.
